


Altar

by Jude81



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F, Fluff, Love, Porn with Feelings, Sex, Smut, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23548279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/pseuds/Jude81
Summary: Lexa comes home to the tower to find Clarke in bed. This is basically porn with feelings. This is mostly canon-compliant through 3.07, except Lexa doesn't die.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Clexa - Relationship
Comments: 46
Kudos: 267





	Altar

**Author's Note:**

> For Poe. Happy super late Valentines Day. Sorry it is so late!

She squatted by the small brook, ears attuned to the sounds of Polis readying itself for sleep, vendors packing up their wares in the market, guards changing shift above her along the newly rebuilt walls. She was cleverly hidden beneath the boughs of the trees tucked beneath a crumbling ditch that hid the mouth of one of Polis’ tunnels from the old world. The trees were stunted here, and the brook was small, more of a trickle flowing over the rocks, before slowly spreading out twenty feet down the ditch before it eventually becomes part of the small river that flows along the outer walls of Polis.

She could hear the small rodents behind her in the tunnel, but they ignored her, and she they. They had gotten used to her presence over the years, and they guarded her secrets well. Sometimes she brought them crumbs of bread as a thank you, just as she had tonight.

She waited for the changing of the guard, long moments for the guard to ease into his position for the next few minutes, his concentration on the horizon. They were at peace now, but it has been a hard-won peace, and the price had been high. She sighed softly and pulled a small vial, pouch, and wooden bowl out the leather bag that hangs across her shoulder. She opened the vial and poured s a few drops of the oil into the wooden bowl before opening the pouch and grabbing a pinch of the coarse powder. She sifted it gently over the oil, smiling at the faint scent of flowers that float upwards. It only took a careful strike of flint and steel and the oil catches fire in a burst of flame before dimming and burning low.

She waited a moment, staring at the flame, hands cupped around the bowl before she carefully set it in the water. It was a custom of her people, but she had lost much of her faith, no longer believing in the spirits or even the previous Hedas. It was too hard to have faith once she realized that a metal bug in her brain had been responsible for the voices, the wisdom passed down by the “Hedas.” She forsook the altars of her people.

No, she worships at another altar now.

She bit her lip, letting the sting of pain flow along her nerves, before gently releasing it, and reaching into the inside of her coat pulling out two braids. She had kept them long enough, and it was past time to lay them to rest. She held them out to the flame, watching as it licked at the hair, the hair crinkling and melting. She set the remains of the braids in the bowl and pushed the bowl down the small brook. She watched for a moment as it slowly rocks back and forth, bumping into rocks until it is finally lost from sight.

“Goodbye, Anya, goodbye, Gustus. Reshop.”

She stood and shook her shoulders out, turning to duck back into the tunnels.

***********************************

She slipped quietly into the room waving the handmaidens away. She had already washed down at the training field when she had finished with her warriors before going to the brook. She walked through the room, kicking off her boots and leaving them by the door, and hanging her coat up. She pulled off her gloves and tossed them onto the chair before walking around and staring down at the table. It was littered with pieces of charcoal and small pots of clay paint. She smiled at the haphazard piles of sketches on parchment and the small paintings: linen stretched over frames of ash she had gifted to Clarke months ago. She let her fingers drift over them carefully, smiling at the faces staring back at her, many of them her own face, some of her warriors. She pulled one piece out, buried under the pile, her smile fading, as her eyes drank the face before her.

It hurt.

He had been gone for months, and yet there he was, his dark eyes, the small smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth, his curly hair matted to his forehead. Aiden. She carefully set it down. Her hand shook before she closed it into a fist. She should have killed Ontari slowly, but she had simply wanted her dead and finished her quickly, tired of blood and war.

She sighed and turned away. It is good though. Good that Clarke was finally drawing and painting again, finding joy again after the long war. It had been longer than she had anticipated. Pike and Bellamy had proven to be more formidable than she had originally thought, and they had managed to gain many followers among the Arkers and even some among the clans, mostly the Desert and Ice Clans.

Her lips curled into a snarl at the thought of the traitors. She had eventually dealt with them, but there had been too many deaths, and it hadn’t helped that she’d spent the first few weeks of the war hidden in a cave recovering from the bullet fired by Titus. It had been Indra and her handmaidens who had smuggled her out, fearing that Roan would kill her in her weakened state. But had she known…she curled her hands into fists.

Ontari.

That…bitch. She snarled under her breath, her chest aching and cold. She hadn’t even known of Ontari’s existence as a Nightblood. How had she missed it! She would go to her grave blaming herself for the deaths that followed that fateful night. For Ontari had murdered her Nightbloods in their sleep while Indra was whisking her away to hiding, while Clarke thought she was dead.

And when word had finally reached her from warriors still loyal to her, even the beasts of the forests trembled in their caves before her screams of rage. Or so the legend went. She didn’t remember much of what happened. Ten days, or maybe it was twelve days after Titus had shot her, she returned, pale and gaunt, barely clinging to her horse, her sword in hand. She stormed her own tower, and she showed Ontari no mercy.

She had drawn Ontari’s blood upon her brow dripping down her cheeks, staining her skin for weeks. They had whispered that her black warpaint was darker than usual. The clans quickly fell into line in the next weeks and months, none eager to taste her blade, for unlike when she had formed the coalition, this time, she showed no mercy.

The Arker rabble had stood their ground with their guns and bullets and fortifications. They had managed to kill dozens and maimed hundreds, before she decided to just let nature do what it would do. The Arkers wanted to live upon the ground, so she let them live upon the round within a half mile radius of Camp Jaha. Her warriors ensured they didn’t stray any further.

The leaves were already turning when she pulled back to Polis, and Winter’s Breath would be the one to choose in the end. And she chose indiscriminately, taking the young and old at first, then their warriors fell with spasms of choking coughs, lungs filled with fluid, glassy eyes.

They ran out of food before the deepest cold had even set. They ran out of fuel. They didn’t know how to trap or hunt without their guns, and their guns scared all the game away. It was Abby who eventually made the trip to Polis under a ragged white banner. Pale with bent shoulders and red eyes, she begged Heda for aid, not for her, but for the few remaining children. And as a gesture of goodwill to show that she could be gracious, and to sow discontent with Pike’s leadership, she sent food and medicine, but only enough for a couple of weeks.

But when Abby turned to leave, it was Wanheda who stopped her with a hard hand to her arm. Lexa couldn’t hear the few words she said, but she saw how Abby stiffened and then slumped, slowly nodding her head. She chose not to question Clarke about it, but chose to trust her, trust the woman who ruled by her side.

And the message soon became clear, when exactly seven days later, the gates to Camp Jaha opened and Abby, Octavia, and Kane stepped through, each carrying a heavy bag in their hand that they delivered to the Trikru warriors camped in the woods.

Lexa had barely hidden her surprise when Linus presented the three bags to her, but what shocked her was that Clarke had been expecting them. Lexa had seen enough bags with blood encrusted bottoms and flies buzzing around to know what was in them; and she didn’t care to see what was inside. She had seen enough of such bags in her lifetime.

_But who…_

And when Clarke had risen from her throne of stone and metal to open the bags, Lexa had tried to stop her to tell her it wasn’t needed, the guards could simply tell them. But Clarke had shook her head, determined to see it through to the end. She owed them that much she supposed.

_Pike_

_Bellamy_

_Hannah_

It hurt Clarke. Lexa could see it. Once upon a time, in what felt like another life, Bellamy had been better, braver. But when Clarke had left after the mountain, he had proven to be too weak to lead without her and had fallen under the influence of the first charismatic leader he came across.

Neither of them had any regrets. They knew what he had done, what he had allowed to happen to Lincoln. She wondered if Octavia had been the one to exact justice for Lincoln.

**************************************

She sighed and shook her head. It was no use thinking about it. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. It was time to put it behind them. She moved further into the room, stripping off her clothes as she went, leaving them in a bundle outside the door, except for her belt with her dagger.

She stepped through the doorway, smiling at the sight before her. The room was mostly taken up by the large four-poster bed with the hand-carved trellis backboard. She smirked a little at the thought of the backboard. They had made good use of the natural hand-holds in the backboard many times.

Her smirk softened into a smile at the sight of Clarke laying on her stomach on the bed, soft furs pulled up over her hips, arms tucked under a pillow, dozens of candles lit around the room and bathing her in a soft a glow.

She carefully made her way to the bed, divesting herself of the rest of her clothing, until she was naked. She climbed up on the bed, kneeling at Clarke’s side, simply gazing at her, barely breathing for a moment, until she leaned down, blowing warm air across Clarke’s back.

She pressed a gentle kiss to the closest scar on her Clarke’s back. The younger woman’s body had slowly become littered with small scars, some bigger. Life on earth was hard, and Clarke had the bad habit of learning the hard way, much like Lexa had done when younger. They could both be a little too hard-headed, but war had tempered Lexa in ways it still had yet to do to Clarke. She prayed it never would.

She pressed gentle open-mouthed kisses along Clarke’s back, swinging her leg over Clarke’s back to hover over her. She slid one hand up her spine, her fingers carefully mapping the ridges of her spine, the small muscles jumping under her touch. She dragged her fingers back down, letting them dig in enough to help relax the tight muscles.

She dragged her tongue lightly up and down her spine, laving each small knob, her hands gently tracing the scars and muscles.

“You are so strong, so beautiful,” she murmured intent on letting her soft touch speak the rest of the words that sat heavy in her chest. Words did not always come easily, and she was mostly reserved and even taciturn, but there was so much she wanted to say to Clarke; tell her how much she loved her. How she loved the scars on her back, though they pained her that she couldn’t save Clarke from them, but how she knew that Clarke was strong enough to bear the weight of their people, to persevere against all odds.

Tell her that her love for Clarke had taken root in the quiet moments when her own heart had been breaking beyond her control, when she had lost Anya and Gustus; despaired of ever making it right. That her admiration for Clarke had only grown to bloom into love that had caught her unaware. And even when Lexa was long gone, the roots of her love for Clarke would still grow.

She turned her head and brushed her cheek across Clarke’s back, basking in the feel of her skin against Lexa’s. It was a strange sort of intimacy, soft and tender, something that clutched at Lexa’s heart. She pressed her lips between Clarke’s shoulder blades, waiting until she could feel the barest thump of Clarke’s heart against her lips. This was where she worshipped. This was her altar.

She slid her hand under Clarke’s hair, moving it to the side, before pressing her face into the back of Clarke’s neck.

“Mmmmm…” Clarke smiled; eyes still closed. She loved the feel of Lexa’s warm and soft lips against the back of her neck.

“Mmmmm? Is that all I get?” husked Lexa, as she carefully lowered her body onto Clarke’s back, sliding her arms under Clarke’s, so she could curl her fingers around Clarke’s fingers under the pillow. She pressed her hips into Clarke’s bottom, brow wrinkling at the feel of the furs covering Clarke’s hips.

“Ugh,” she grunted as she leveraged herself up onto her elbows and knees, releasing one of Clarke’s hands so she could draw the fur down and kick it off of Clarke’s body.

“Noooooo,” whined Clarke, “now I’m cold.”

Lexa chuckled and quickly lowered herself back onto Clarke’s back. “I will keep you warm, my love.” She nosed her face into Clarke’s cheek, puffing air against her skin, until the other girl laughed. She pressed her hips into Clarke’s bottom, shivering slightly at the feel of the firm muscles nestled against her lower abdomen.

“Your incorrigible. And you’d better keep me warm.” Clarke lifted her head, straining her neck slightly, eyes wide, mischievous smile lingering on her lips. “I know just how you can keep me warm too.”

Lexa grinned, the small laugh building in her chest, finally spilling past her lips after a moment. Laughter was a new concept to her. There hadn’t been many reasons to laugh in her life, not until Clarke.

“Please tell me,” she pressed her open lips to Clarke’s shoulder, letting her tongue taste the warm skin of the younger woman. “Please tell me exactly how I can keep you warm. In detail.”

Clarke closed her eyes again, almost lost to the sensation of Lexa’s mouth against her skin. “That…you can keep doing that.”

Lexa pulled away slightly, “doing what?”

Clarke groaned, “You know what. Do not tease!”

Lexa chuckled and leaned down, brushing her cheek across Clarke’s shoulders, enjoying the way the other girl’s breath hitched in her chest. “Ok now teasing, but you have to tell me.”

“Or I could show you.” Clarke pulled her hands under herself, pressing her body upward, making it clear to Lexa to move.

Lexa scrambled up, trying to make room for Clarke, their legs tangling and spilling Lexa onto the bed. She shook her head, smiling a little as she brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Yes, beja, show me.”

Clarke laughed, and reached out, sliding her hand behind Lexa’s neck and pulling her up to her. “I will show you, but you are Heda tonight, and I am not Wanheda.”

Lexa smiled eagerly, knowing it was Clarke’s way of telling Lexa that she wanted the older woman to be in charge tonight, to be the “top” as they used to say in the old world. It wasn’t a term used in Trikru, and she had been unfamiliar with the idea that sometimes lovers fell into certain roles. She had only had two lovers prior to Clarke, and in both she had been the “top.” Something that had been expected of her as Heda, and she had not known to question it. She had been surprised when it had been Clarke often taking the initiative, carefully and lovingly guiding her when they made love. It had been a new experience, learning to let go, to place her trust so completely in another person. Trusting Clarke enough to literally show Clarke her naked, vulnerable back.

In their world, showing someone your back could mean literal death, and at least two Hedas before her had been assassinated in such a way, one by their lover while in bed. But she had learned to trust Clarke implicitly with not just her back, but her love, her dreams, fears, her failings, and triumphs. So she eagerly let Clarke’s hands guide her into a sitting position, waiting patiently while the younger woman stuffed a few pillows behind Lexa’s back.

Lexa knew immediately what she wanted. It was one of their favorite positions, and she grasped Clarke’s waist, pulling the girl down into her lap to straddle her.

“Is this what you want? You want to sit in my lap?”

Clarke nodded eagerly, a light blush dusting her cheeks. She bit her lip and looked at Lexa from underneath her eyelashes. “Sha, Lexa.”

Lexa pulled Clarke closer before letting her hands fall to Clarke’s warm thighs. She traced her fingers along the skin, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Heda.”

It never failed to make her belly clench when Clarke said it, not matter if she called her Heda or Lexa. She grunted and slid her hands up the length of Clarke’s thighs, her hands sliding under Clarke’s bottom and lifting her slightly and pulling her into her chest.

She kissed her neck, letting her teeth graze over the tender skin, nibbling slightly, not enough to bruise, but enough for Clarke to feel it and jerk her shoulders. She pressed kisses up her neck to her jawline, sucking on the delicate skin, before finally pressing her lips to Clarke’s.

The kisses weren’t particularly soft, but heavy and hungry, and she pushed her tongue against Clarke’s lips, demanding entrance, and when Clarke yielded, she pressed forward eager to claim Clarke’s mouth. She tangled her tongue with Clarke’s sucking it eagerly into her mouth, only stopping when she felt Clarke pull away to catch her breath.

“Damn, Lexa,” groaned Clarke as she wrapped her arms tightly around Lexa’s shoulders, pressing her face into the crook of her neck. She pressed her tongue against Lexa’s pulse, massaging it, and humming at the way it jumped and sped under her tongue. She bit down lightly, enjoying the way it made Lexa grunt and wiggle.

“Claaaaarke,” Lexa whined, her skin becoming hypersensitive to Clarke’s touch. She tried to distract herself from Clarke’s mouth on her neck, by sliding her hands around Clarke’s belly, touching it gently before sliding her hands up to cup Clarke’s breasts. They were bigger than her hands, and she loved them, how heavy and full they were against her palms.

She ducked her head, forcing Clarke’s mouth from her neck, so she could rain kisses along the younger woman’s clavicle, licking and sucking her way down her chest, until she could wrap her lips around one nipple. It only took a moment of her lips circling it, coaxing it plump and harden.

“Fuck,” muttered Clarke as she sat back a little to give Lexa more room. She gripped the older girl’s shoulders to steady herself as she started to rock against Lexa’s thighs. It did little to help the ache growing in her lower belly, and she could feel the wetness gathering between her legs.

She grabbed Lexa’s hand trying to force it between her legs, but the brunette resisted, shaking her head. She smirked at Clarke, before switching her attention to the other nipple, wrapping her tongue around it and sucking lightly on it. She caressed the soft skin of Clarke’s breasts with her thumb, pinching and rolling the other nipple unoccupied by her mouth.

Clarke groaned, knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to rush Lexa much, especially when she had made it clear that she wanted Lexa to be in charge tonight. “Damnit,” she muttered, as she rocked against Lexa, anxious for Lexa to touch her, but at the same time enjoying the way she played with her nipples.

She squeezed Lexa’s shoulders, hoping she would get the hint, but when she was ignored, she huffed and let go of Lexa’s shoulders, shivering lightly at the tingling in her nipples. She brushed her hands down over Lexa’s breasts, smiling at the way Lexa twitched and instinctively pushed into Clarke’s hands.

She dragged her thumbs over the stiffening buds, smirking before squeezing them gently. She chuckled openly when Lexa jerked and groaned a little at the small, exquisite pain that raced along her nerves. Lexa always preferred a heavier touch than Clarke on her breasts, and she Clarke knew it would be enough to distract her.

“Like it?” She husked, leaning forward, letting her tongue trace the shell of Lexa’s ear, before pulling the earlobe into her mouth and sucking on it for a moment, before releasing it.

Lexa could only nod mutely, the stinging in her nipples rolling lightly through her, as Clarke continued to roll and pinch them. The message was clear, Clarke was done waiting.

“Sha. Sha,” she murmured, pulling Clarke closer, pressing her lips to Clarke’s, as she slid her hand down Clarke’s belly and over her sex, dipping her fingers between her lips. She shivered at the wetness that greeted her, and she could feel the answering wetness growing between her legs, and she shifted slightly, pressing her thighs closed in an effort to stem the inevitable distraction of her own desire.

She groaned a little, sliding her fingers up and down Clarke’s sex, gathering the wetness and messily rubbing it across her clit. “So good, you feel so good, Clarke.”

“Do you want me inside?”

She smirked when Clarke could only nod her head, eyes closed, as she pressed herself against Lexa’s fingers. She tried to raise her body enough to catch Lexa’s fingers and pull them into her, but Lexa prevented her from doing so by holding her tightly.

“Say it, Clarke,” she pressed kisses against her flushed breasts. “Say it.”

“Inside.”

It sounds more like a guttural grunt, but Lexa understood. She shifted and widened her legs, forcing Clarke to spread her legs more while she straddled her. Lexa gently pushed against Clarke’s hips, until Clarke shimmied back just enough to give Lexa more room.

“Good, girl,” she murmured, capturing Clarke’s mouth with her own again. She turned her hand palm up, and circled Clarke’s entrance with two fingers, making sure she was still wet enough. She carefully slid her fingertips inside, grunting at the way Clarke immediately tried to pull her inside, but she resisted.

“Not yet, love,” she murmured against Clarke’s mouth, her fingers pressing slightly into Clarke and then withdrawing to drag them up over her clit. She circled her clit lightly and then pressed against it, rubbing it gently, before sliding her fingers back down her sex. She was eager to taste her, fill her mouth with her, but she knew that wasn’t what Clarke wanted right now.

She wrapped one arm around her waist, her hand flat against the small of her back to steady her. “Up,” she whispered, coaxing Clarke to lift an inch, and when Clarke did, she pressed both fingers inside of her.

“Ff-ff-fuuuck,” Clarke sighed deeply, her belly tightening instantly at the feel of Lexa’s fingers inside her. She felt full and warm, stretched just enough for her muscles to strain and increase the friction, but not enough for it to hurt.

“Gaia, you feel amazing, my love,” muttered Lexa as she shifted slightly, so she could leverage her arm a little better. She flexed her fingers carefully inside of Clarke, smiling at the way Clarke’s mouth fell open, unable to utter a sound. She curled her fingers slightly, and pressed against Clarke’s walls, massaging the swollen, soft muscles. She could feel Clarke clenching around her, slowly drawing her in deeper, and she let her, until she fully sheathed inside.

Clarke slumped a little, letting her head fall to Lexa’s shoulder, her breath sputtering lightly against Lexa’s warm skin. “Perfect.” She lifted her head, pressing her lips to Lexa’s jaw. “Fuck me.”

Lexa felt her belly tighten and her thighs tense. She could feel her own excitement spilling out onto the furs. She pulled Clark firmly against herself, palm still against her back. She pressed the heel of her palm against Clarke and moved her fingers deep inside of her. She wiggled them and withdrew slightly, just enough to create friction against the muscles, while she ground the heel of her palm against Clarke’s clit.

“I love you, Clarke. You are so beautiful,” she murmured pressing kisses to Clarke’s wet forehead and cheeks. She pumped her fingers lightly, dragging them along Clarke’s walls before pressing up and dragging along the front wall, back and forth. She could feel Clarke tighten around her as the other girl started grinding against her hand, jerking her hips.

She could feel the heat gathering in her lower abdomen, making her thighs feel heavy. She trembled at the feel of Lexa’s fingers deep inside of her, mapping and teasing her swollen flesh. She jerked and squeezed hard around Lexa’s fingers, grinding against them. She could feel the heat tighten into a hard knot, and she groaned.

“Harder, Lexa.” She grabbed Lexa’s head, pressing her mouth harshly against her’s, tongues entangled, while she lifted her hips slightly and then settled back onto Lexa’s lap, her fingers buried inside.

Lexa pulled back, and dropped her head, angling her neck, so she could press hot, wet kisses to Clarke’s breasts. She wrapped her lips and tongue around a hard nipple, sucking on it, while she pressed her palm against Clarke, able to feel her swollen clit. She could feel Clarke’s muscles inside swelling, and she twisted her fingers, rubbing against them, until she felt Clarke stiffen and groan, jerking her hips against her hand.

It only took another moment and the hard, hot knot in her lower belly sunk deep into her muscles and unwound like a coil lashing at her nerves. She jerked her hips erratically, her body on autopilot as she rode Lexa’s fingers, her own fingers digging into Lexa’s shoulders as she tried to steady herself against the harsh trembling of her muscles.

It was long moments before she stopped squeezing Lexa’s fingers, before her body stopped shaking, her sex still twitching, the muscles almost spent around Lexa’s fingers. She sighed, trying to calm her racing heart, but her body still tingled, and moisture glistened across her skin, a few drops rolling down her face and neck.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” murmured Lexa as she steadied Clarke with her arm, coaxing the younger woman to slump against her. She wiggled her fingers slightly, drawing out the last ripples of Clarke’s orgasm, enjoying the way Clarke had bathed her hand, filling her palm slightly with her wetness.

She carefully pulled out, grinning at the slightest squelching sound. She loved that sound. She chuckled at Clarke’s groan, kissing her forehead, before licking her fingers. She wrapped her tongue around her own fingers, drawing them into her mouth, humming at the at the musky tang of Clarke.

Clarke chuckled weakly and slumped against Lexa, drained of all energy. She pressed her ear against Lexa’s chest, smiling at the rapid thump. She let it soothe her for a moment, before pulling away and kissing Lexa.

She slipped her hand between their bodies, her arm twitching a little still from overextending the muscles from her orgasm.

“No,” whispered Lexa against Clarke’s mouth, stopping her hand in place. She intertwined their fingers, pulling Clarke’s hand to her mouth, tenderly pressing her lips against the knuckles.

“Sleep.”

She chuckled at Clarke’s pout, which quickly turned into a yawn. “Sleep, love. There is always time for more later.” She carefully rolled them over, before slipping off Clarke to lay behind her. She turned fully on her side, reaching for Clarke and tugging her gently into her arms.

“Sleep now. We both need it.”

“That’s ‘cuz you old,” muttered Clarke around another yawn.

Lexa lightly nipped at Clarke’s shoulder, muttering under her breath, “Brat.”

“Your brat.”

Lexa yawned and reached down, pulling one of the furs over up over their hips, before falling back beside Clarke, pressing her lips against the back of her shoulder. “Mine. Always.”

*********************************

Lexa smiled at the soft noises Clarke made as the girl settled herself deeper into the bed, pushing back into Lexa. Lexa pushed Clarke’s hair to the side before wrapping her arms around her again and pulling her back into her chest even more tightly. She pressed her lips gently to the back of Clarke’s neck, drinking in the scent and taste of the moist skin.

“Mmmmm…get you later…”

Lexa smiled, “what did you say?”

Clarke grunted, pulling Lexa’s arms tighter around herself, pushing her bottom back into Lexa’s thighs. She could feel the weariness of the day tugging at her, and her limbs were warm and heavy. She was safe and content in the cradle of Lexa’s body.

She yawned and snuggled deeper into the bed, “later,” she muttered, “later I’m going to do that thing…that thing you like.”

Lexa hummed and closed her eyes, nose pressed to Clarke’s warm skin. “I like everything,” she muttered, sleep tugging at her.

“That thing you really like.”

Lexa’s eyes flew open, and her breath hitched in her chest. She could feel herself grow warm, and her hips jerked in reflex against Clarke. She let the air out of her lungs in a shuddering breath.

“Ok.”

She tightened her arms around Clarke, closing her eyes again, a small smile playing about her lips.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
